The Raven's Revenge Read Online Free PDF

you.”
    “No one tried to kill me,” he scoffed. “’Twas an accident.”
    “’Tis not what I heard.” She shook her head and went back to work on his arm. “My neighbor, Richard Finch, said he shot the Raven.”
    “What has that to do with me?”
    “Are you not the Raven?” She frowned down at him.
    “Do I look to be a bird?”
    She ignored his attempt to parry. “The Raven I speak of is an outlaw.”
    “Do I look like an outlaw?” He gave her his most sincere and noble look.
    She studied him. “Indeed you do. But if you are not the Raven, then I apologize.”
    He laughed. It made his head hurt, but the rest of him felt better. “If I am the Raven, why would a good Puritan lass like you tend to me?”
    “I am not a Puritan.” She picked up a clean piece of bandage.
    “No, of course not. I remember now. You’re one of our dear King’s ladyloves. We were introduced when last I was at Whitehall. The injury to my head must have confused me.”
    She eyed him doubtfully and pressed cool fingers to his cheek.
    Nicholas caught her hand in his good one and willed her to look directly at him. Her fingers were long and delicate, her eyes apprehensive.
    “’Twas a jest,” he said, unable to keep the exasperation from his voice. “Meant to make you laugh.” She didn’t look like she’d laughed at anything for a very long time.
    He let go of her hand and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Good lord, he was tired. “Coffee,” he said more to himself than to her.
    “Kaw-fee? Is that not the sound a raven makes?”
    Nicholas looked up at her but she was not smiling. Clearly she had not meant to be witty.
    “Coffee is a drink from Turkey,” he said. “When imbibed it gives clarity to the mind.”
    He closed his eyes as weariness overcame him. He was beginning to see double again. Perhaps what he really needed was sleep.
    Gentle fingers spread tender warmth on his aching limb. Peacefulness wrapped around him. Then she applied a poultice of some evil-smelling substance to his arm. Prompted by his nose, his eyes drifted open. His unfocused gaze came to rest on her. Limned by candlelight, Katherine sat within a halo—an angel keeping him safe.
    Seemingly from a long distance, he heard her speak. “Your name, Sir Outlaw? What is your name?”
    “Nicholas. Nicholas Ed—“ he frowned and felt the bandage across his forehead tighten. No, he did not want her to know that. “Eddington,” he finished.
    His mouth pulled into a smile. His eyes slowly shut.
    Ed-Eddington. A fitting acquaintance for a K-Katherine.
    It was the last conscious thought he had before he floated into oblivion.

    * * *

    Several days later, Katherine was working in the garden piling soil high around the base of a bare rose bush. She shivered in the light breeze. The November sun provided scant warmth, but helped dry the soil. Even though there had been no rain for two days, the ground was still wet.
    She wiped her hands on her smock and picked up a ball of twine.
    A gray kitten appeared out of nowhere and attacked the end of string that dangled free.
    “Montford!” she scolded, pulling the twine aloft. The kitten leapt high, and then fell almost onto its back, flipping over just in time to land on all fours.
    Katherine gazed at the barren garden, marveling at how different it would appear next summer when the thorny branches would be covered by green leaves and richly colored flowers, their soft petals holding a sweet, exotic perfume. She had always helped her mother prepare the roses for their winter sleep. This year, she could have had Tom, the gardener, assist her, but working alone, she could feel her mother’s calm presence, and it helped to ease the ache in her heart.
    Her mother would not have allowed this marriage to Finch.
    Katherine unwound and cut a length of twine. As she twisted it around the rose branches to bind them safely against the winter winds, she could almost hear her